The Screams of the Sleeping City
by KnightOfNevermore
Summary: Alfred was not one to worry. Always full of smiles, always full of hope for the future. However, surrounded by the tainted flowers of Wales the stench of England's blood, all hopes of escaping this war vanished. The date was September 7, 1940.


A/N: Yes, even though this has been done A HUNDRED times I wanted to do it. :) I was supposed to be writing my new APH and HP crossover, but I completly sidetracked, and didn't realize that I had written a oneshot until I stopped to check my grammar. I love their interactions, romantic or not, so its natural for me to write them. ENJOY!

* * *

Alfred was not one to worry. He was the get done and get it done now kind of nation. He didn't have time to think about the past _(alone among the dust and darkness of his memories, hiding from the accusations, the whisper, the wounds, the pain)_, it was always about the future.

But when his father, his brother, his best friend, the man that was always there (_watching him, protecting him, no matter how far the ocean stretched between them) _began to cough up blood, the worry flooded his body in a hair-raising chill.

He had been sitting with Arthur in his garden _(surrounded by the scent of lilies and rosemary, flowers and herbs)_ drinking his coffee _(black like Arthur's eyes, the green dark and dim)_ when the older man had keeled over the table, coughing hysterically.

Time slowed and Alfred's mind registered only three things, the blood _(red as the breaking dawn, scarlet as the setting sun), _his teacup _(falling, falling, falling, shattering into a thousand pieces)_, and _Arthur. _

Alfred's instincts over took his body, trained from years of war _(from revolutionaries dressed in farmers clothes with hunting guns and guerrilla warfare to the blood soaked fields of France and suffocating gas)_ and he dropped his mug onto the table without so much as a glance; the brown of steaming coffee oozing and mixing the staining red of blood.

He rushed to Arthur's side and pulled the shaking man to him, his heaving chest shuddering against Alfred's own. Alfred, shaking and panicking snatched a folded napkin from the table _(he was always so formal, so neat, so orderly, so calm, so utterly untouchable)_ and pressed it to Arthur's scarlet lips.

Mindless words of reassurance and comfort poured from his lips as he mopped the red from Arthur's lips _(never stopping he pressed on, but it kept on flowing, it kept on coming, the blood wouldn't stop) _and held the quivering man to his chest.

"L-L-Lon-on," Arthur struggled to speak _(the words that had once comes so easily to him stuttered and shook from his lips)_.

"Shh, i-it's o-okay Art-Art-Artie, ev-ev-everything," Alfred swallowed hard _(the words that had once been whispered so many a time in his ear by the very man he whispered them to now struggled to escape from his mouth, so unwilling to admit the once strong man's defeat)_,"everything is going to be fine, just fine."

"London, Alfred," Arthur chokes out, more blood spilling from his lips," London is burning, Alfred."

Alfred's heart stops and his mind screams in panic _(impossible, inconceivable, how could anyone touch him? He was invincible, the greatest Empire to ever walk the earth)_,"N-no. No. Ar-Arthur, you're-"

"I can hear them. I can hear them screaming. My children, screaming," Arthur whimpers into Alfred's chest _(no longer blood sending rattling coughs through his body, but sobs, no longer blood soaking Alfred's chest, but tears)._

And then Alfred heard them too. Arthur's children_ (screaming and crying; praying and dying)_.

He heard every word, every sound uttered in the city of death that night. He heard the children of London, he heard their pain _(thousands of miles away the sun had set, but the land remained bright, flickering, humming, screaming with the rain of death falling upon it. Sirens howling, children crying, people screaming for their families as the bombs rained upon them in their sleep)._

"It has begun, Alfred. It has begun," Arthur muttered, hands twitching and aching, heart convulsing and twisting as he feels a new scar, one barely formed, still twisting and tattooing his body with its pearly white mark. And he knows that this battle has just begun (_the night was early and fresh and the early light of dawn was far from breaking_)**.**

There _(enveloped and incased by the scent of the salt and iron of the Thames) _all of Alfred's dreams of the future, of forgetting his past and moving forward, of a life free from worry died with the screams of London still ringing in his ears.

Not even two hundred years and born into the blood of battle and of war _(frozen fingers and frostbitten toes, the burning of Atlanta, the apprehension and utter damage of mustard gas)_ seemed to dull and fade in this ever-growing shadow of a second war of the world. Alfred knew now of the enemy he would face, and despite all that he will try and all that he will do, he knows that he could not escape this war.

It is only a matter of time before he is the one, keeled over the shatter mess of his mug, blood pouring from his trembling lips, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks; the screams of his children resounding in his ears.

* * *

A/N2: The German Blitz began on September 7th, 1940 and lasted until May 10th, 1941. Thanks to my beta: Awesomeness Incarnate for being awesome and doing this for me even though her eyes probably start bleeding after the first line! I used an odd style in here, please let me know if you liked it, or if it was horrible in a review, and your opinion of the story overall. Thanks for reading and (please!) reviewing!

* * *

EDIT: Hahaha, okay I'm writing this about 2 hours after posting this. After I posted this my parents informed me that we were going to a movie, The Kings Speech to be exact. For those of you who do not know, it is a movie about the Duke of York, Albert, and how he became King of England during WWII. Just thought I would tell you about that funny little coincidence! Hehe, also, do go see that movie, it is wonderful and in my opinion, and my film critic friend's opinion, the best movie of the year. And without a doubt the best screenplay of the year. So go see The Kings Speech! :)


End file.
